Second Time Around
by fiction-fiend
Summary: Everyone knows that Lee Adama has always been too good for Kara Thrace. The thing is, Lee doesn't exactly share that sentiment. Oneshot.


**A/N: **I wrote this directly after the season finale in March. I thought it was crap, didn't send it to a beta and left it to rot on my computer. I randomly stumbled upon it the other day during a routine clean-up and decided that since I missed BSG so frakking much, I would post this for kicks, un-beta'd and all. So take it as you will. And pray that we all fall into the same wormhole and wind up in January 2008. Hopefully you're able to find some form of enjoyment reading this.

* * *

Many things had happened since that first night he'd seen her in a dress and asked her to dance at her own suggestion. It had been such a shock to his system to see her like that, with her hair done and sporting make-up. And the dress, Gods, the dress. The colour had complimented her skin tone and eyes at the same time, the style of it suited her personality wonderfully, and it was clingy in every single one of the right places.

From the look on her face when he approached her, Lee guessed that his expression had betrayed all of his testosterone-induced feelings readily. It hadn't mattered to her, though. She just shot him a smile and rolled her eyes a little, as if to say _"Yeah yeah, I'm a girl, you caught me." _When his legs had finally regained enough feeling to allow for him to move closer to her, some lame words about her bad knee looking better had sputtered out of his mouth. His follow-up comment about her other knee looking good too wasn't exactly great either. But she was Kara Thrace and he was Lee Adama. It didn't matter what they said to one another, it never had. She just shrugged it off and told him basically outright that if he wanted to ask her to dance, he should. He thought it was his chance, that she was finally giving him a real opening. So he asked. And she hadn't said yes. She hadn't said no either, merely whisked him away to the dance floor whilst telling him that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see her in a dress. But she hadn't said yes.

It's the only thing he had thought about for the rest of the evening. It came to him while she was dancing with him; while he watched her dance with Baltar; while he settled into an uneasy sleep…while she was making love to Baltar. But he didn't know that last part, of course. No, he would learn that piece of information later on, and it would sting and burn him for weeks – months – to come.

Even now, nearly five years later, it still stung him sometimes. And as he watched her from across the bar, he wondered if the ache would ever subside. He wished he could do what he did then: walk up to her full of confidence, ask her the same as he did the first time around and see if her answer was the same as well. But he couldn't. The game had changed since then. They had been through hell and it had turned them into almost unrecognizable people. He'd married another woman when he'd only wanted Kara and his wife had left him in turn. He'd abandoned his people on New Caprica and they had abandoned him as well. For a time, he'd believed military rules and regulations weren't for him, so he'd quit, and when he'd come crawling back on his hands and knees, begging for reinstatement, they'd turned him down. His father had turned him down. He'd spent months going from ship to ship, trying to find food, shelter and an occasional night of "comfort" when he could afford it. Eventually, he was called back into the service, but only because the Cylons were on the prowl again and they were short pilots. Kara's life hadn't been exactly great either though. All of her stuff had been auctioned off after her supposed death, and she'd been forced to beg for most of it back from the other pilots and deckhands who had all wanted a little piece of the famous Starbuck. She had been put through rigorous Cylon testing after her return, and because everyone had been so on edge at the time, some of the procedures were rather invasive. Kara hadn't been quite her normal since she'd been back, and the month she spent stuck in the Cylon holding cell receiving weekly visits from Doc Cottle only made it worse. But she'd had Sam. He visited everyday and was allowed to do so without receiving strange looks from the marines. He was there the day she'd been cleared, and had been allowed to hug her and touch her and love her. Lee hadn't though. He'd watched secretly from the sidelines, wishing he were Sam, and that she would love him and cling to him for support. In the long run though, he was glad he wasn't Sam, because a man that would rather put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger than live a life alongside Kara, no matter how much pain he was suffering, was not someone Lee wanted to be. Not anymore at least… No one quite knew what inspired Sam to do it. His death had come shortly after Tory, Roslin's presidential aide, had done herself in as well. Needless to say, Kara was devastated. She and Sam had been through so much, and even during the times she couldn't love him – refused to love him – she'd still wanted him. Lee wished that he could have been able to comfort her, but he couldn't. He was still barely alive, incapable of loving himself, nevermind anyone else. But he'd watched her, though, and offered limited solace from afar. Sometimes he'd clear the bunk room so she could have some time to herself, "accidentally" erase her name from the early CAP rotation and replace it with his own, or Hotdog's. She never knew who was responsible, but she was grateful. Lee had learned that watching someone when they didn't know they were being watched could completely change your view on that person.

So as he sat at his table, nursing his drink, watching her at the bar, he wondered if she was as sad as she looked. Did she know anyone was watching? Did she know that he cared whether the tear in her eye was out grief, or merely from the excess of smoke in the room? In theory, it would be so simple… Just walk up to her, profess his love for her right there, drag her onto the dance floor and just hold her until Joe kicked them out. Then why the frak didn't he do it? The only thing standing in his way was his own fear. He was afraid of rejection, afraid of what other people would say…afraid of not being good enough for her. He cast another wayward glance in her direction and noticed just how lonely she looked. He was lonely too. That woman did not deserve this. Sitting alone at night in a sleazy bar, with only her drink for company. It was time to swallow down the fear, the pride. For her sake. It was always for her sake.

He downed the rest of the near toxic beverage in his glass, making a face as the acidic liquid poured down the back of his throat. Liquid courage. That's what his mother had called it, way back on those hot Caprican nights when Lee would catch her sitting by the phone with a glass in her hand. Just a little more of that liquid courage and she would call Lee's father to try and make amends. She'd never once picked up the phone.

Lee stumbled out of his chair a little, trying to shake off the effects the drink was having on him. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his journey over to where she sat perched at the bar. It wasn't a pretty sight. He rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to make himself appear more awake. The stains on his once stylish blue shirt were impossible to fix, but he was able to smooth down a few of the wrinkles. After 3 minutes of unsuccessfully trying to keep his hair flat, he gave up, and settled for mussing it up more to achieve the increasingly popular "unkempt" look half of the crew was trying to achieve.

After reassuring himself he looked half-decent, he checked to make sure Kara was still sans company. She was. He kept his head down, and made his way shakily over to where she was seated. When he was about five feet away, she caught his eyes. He hadn't meant for his gaze to drift upwards, but she was just too captivating not to look at. She gave him a questioning look that soon turned mischievous. _Go on, _she silently dared him, _come over here. What's the worst that could happen? _Unfortunately, only the Gods knew the answer to that question. There was no turning back now; it was do or die. With Kara though, it always was. With each step, he shook more, each breath grew more ragged, his palms sweat more with every passing second. He was finally in front of her, and what a sight she was up close. There was no dress this time, no make-up, no neatly combed hair. She was just Kara, and that's all he had ever wanted.

"Hey," he breathed, the words barely escaping his lips.

"Hi."

"It's been awhile."

"It has."

Oh Kara, always so predictable. She was already being evasive. He knew how to handle her, though. Duck and run, bob and weave, it had always been a specialty of theirs.

"So…how've you been?"

"All right. You?"

"The same."

"Typical Lee, always the same."

She shot him a smile that knocked down the walls he'd spent so long building up around his heart in one fell swipe. He'd missed that smile so much when she was gone, and he missed it even more now that she was perfectly able to smile at him, but wouldn't.

"Well, you know me, never been a big fan of change."

"Yeah, I do know you."

"Well then…do you know why I'm here?"

"I'd like to think I have a pretty good idea."

"Oh. Then umm…would you…uhh, can I…buy you a drink?"

"Well, I never was one to turn down a free drink, especially if it's Lee Adama who's making the offer. Here," she smiled again and gestured to a nearby seat, "pull up a pew."

"Thanks."

He pulled himself onto the seat, nervousness oozing off him. But he pretended like nothing was wrong, motion to the barkeep, ordered her a drink, and flashed her a smile that displayed nothing but absolute confidence.

"I don't see much of you anymore," he commented offhandedly, trying to sound casual.

"I guess that would be because you're pulling CIC duty instead of hanging out with the Viper jocks down in the hangar bay where you're supposed to be. It's weird not having you in my head while I'm flying."

"Well," he began, "Tigh's state of mind is still shaky, and his liver isn't fairing very well either these days. The admiral needs an XO that's competent and that will get the job done."

"So you refer to him as the admiral now? Nice."

He tried to interject, to explain the situation with his father, but she just kept going.

"Besides, Helo's perfectly capable to act as XO. He always used to. You're also ten times the pilot is he is, and we need more fighters out there. Oh," she added, "and don't tell him I said that you were a better pilot. He'd have my ass – not to mention, my wings – in a second if he knew I'd said that."

They both laughed half-heartedly a little, and then Kara continued on with her spiel.

"You know what? I bet Tigh could still probably do a decent job. His state of mind has always been 'shaky' at best. Plus, with the way he drinks, his liver's probably been failing for years. He just used to do a better job at hiding it."

Although Lee agreed with most of what Kara was saying, he still needed a rebuttal. It was the lawyer in him…even though, technically, he had never been a lawyer to begin with. Yet another silly dream of his…

"I guess," he started, "Helo's just better suited for flying than I am now. He's more reliable, and…malleable. Ever since that 'stint' I pulled after Baltar's trial when I…you know…they've been cautious about letting me back in a Viper full time. In the CIC, everyone's watching me. It guarantees that I won't be able to do anything aside from what I'm told. In layman's terms…I'm on the shortest leash available."

Kara snorted. "Come on Lee, clearly the Old Man can't be that worried about you. He _did_ promote you to Colonel, didn't he?"

"Yeah, and you got promoted to Major because of it. Face it Kara, people just exist to fill the slots they're told to fill."

She nodded slightly to let him know she agreed, but made no indication that the conversation should continue any further. Lee turned his head, craning his neck to see if anybody was left on the dance floor. It was late but there were still quite a few people grooving to the beat of the music. As if on cue, the up-tempo song ended and was replaced with a slow, melancholic beat. He looked at Kara, who was currently fascinated by what a piece of ice in her glass was doing. This was it. There was no reason not to ask her; she wasn't with anyone, nor was he, and there was no one around to tell them that what they were doing wasn't appropriate. He turned back to face her, and begun building up the courage he would need to ask her that important question.

"Nice song," he commented.

"It is. It's one of the few they have in this place that I can actually remember hearing back on Caprica."

"Same."

Silence followed.

"So…you think maybe I could escort you to the dance floor and maybe lead you in a dance or two? For old times sake?"

At this, Kara peered up from her glass and stared at him, eyes wide and filled with disbelief.

"You, uh, you don't have to," he quickly backpedaled, "I just thought that maybe – "

"Lee," she said softly, in a voice he didn't quite recognize, "ask me again."

"Pardon?"

"Ask me again."

"Would you… like to dance?"

"I would love to."

He grinned at her and she beamed right back at him. As any true gentleman would, he extended his hand, helped her off her seat and from there, they walked to the dance floor together, the crowd parting to allow them passage. He looked back at her, and she gave him a reassuring smile, one that said she was more than fine with this. His grip tightened on her hand, trying to make sure that she was real, that this was real.

They finally made it to where the other pairs were rocking back and forth to the music. There was an awkward moment when she wrapped her arms around his neck and his hands fumbled around her body, trying to find an appropriate spot to rest. It passed quickly though, as he placed his hands delicately around her waist and they moved closer into each other. The song ended almost as soon as they'd begun dancing, but fortunately a good Samaritan had thrown a cubit into the music box and another slow song began in its place. Not that the lack of music had stopped Kara and Lee from dancing. In fact, they were closer than ever, his head nuzzled into her hair, her face pushed gently – desperately – into his shoulder.

"I can't believe you actually did it," she whispered into him.

"Did what?" he asked softly.

"Asked me. When…when I saw you walk over, I had hoped but…you…you're Lee." She chuckled, and tears started welling up in her eyes, "And everyone knows that Lee Adama has always been too good for Kara Thrace."

"No, Kara, you've got it all wrong. Everyone knows that Lee Adama has always been hopelessly in love with Kara Thrace."

The tears collecting in her eyes began to fall softly onto Lee's shirt, and he pressed her closer to him, never wanting to let go…

"I-I don't deserve you."

"You're right about that one Thrace. You don't deserve me. We deserve each other. Frak ups, the both of us. We have been from the start," he told her, and she smiled through the tears.

"Lee…can you just…hold me? Hold me tight and never let go?"

"I'll try my very hardest."

And there they stood, wrapped tightly in each other's embrace, still swaying softly to and fro to the quickly fading beat. Even when the song ended, and the bar begun to empty out and Joe told them to leave, they still stood there. Lee would keep his promise. He would never let go of her again. He had been afraid of rejection, but at the same time, so had she, and he hadn't even thought of that. This time around, there would be no fear. No wounds. No hurt. No, this time there would only be love. Everything was always better the second time around…


End file.
